


In the Absence of Fear

by Kappakay



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, human!Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-30
Updated: 2013-09-30
Packaged: 2017-12-28 01:13:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/985888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kappakay/pseuds/Kappakay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A one shot done as a gift for fine_feathered <3</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Absence of Fear

Dean.

It was a whisper in the night, but he heard it, clear as a bell. Getting up out of bed, Dean found his robe and donned it, grabbing a flashlight as he made the trek outside the Men of Letters bunker. The night was crisp, the leaves on the trees bitten with mild frost to signify the coming winter. Dean pulled the robe tighter around his frame, eyes squinting in search of the source of distress. 

Again, he heard it. A small prayer of hope, of desperation. Dean turned towards the bridge in the distance, following his instincts. Months had gone by since the angels had fallen, with not a sign nor whisper of his own. It was unnerving for his life to be so absent of the angel; ever since they got back from Purgatory, Dean had been able to feel his presence in the back of his skull, a constant reminder that they had both made it out through some dumb luck. Even though he couldn’t physically see him, it was enough to know that he was somewhere out there, no matter how much it pained Dean that he was not by his side. 

The thought of finding him always crossed Dean’s mind. Where would he start though? In the entirety of the United States, and of Heaven, it was impossible to track down an angel, especially if they didn’t want to be found. Balthazar had known tricks, but he, like so many who had helped the Winchesters, died before he could share his knowledge. 

However, if all the angels fell, surely he did too. Then how would one go about finding an angel fallen from Grace? He had no internet footprint, no identification to speak of… How would Dean ever be able to find him? 

So he prayed. He prayed to God, wherever he may have been in the goddamn universe to bring his angel home. He had gotten down on his knees and begged for him to come home to Dean. Whether God was listening or even gave two fucks was another story entirely, but at least Dean tried. He needed to believe that He cared enough to bring him back one more time.

The water kicked up a small breeze, ruffling Dean’s unkempt hair. The whisper was dead, but he knew this was the location. Not far from the bunker, but close enough he could still see it as being ground zero for incognito radar. Come on man. One more miracle.

He strained his ears, focusing hard, drowning out the honks of distant cars and the gurgle of the river. One more. Do it for me. Please. 

You’ve come back to me time and time again, and I don’t deserve it but please. Dean held his breath as the crickets chirped and the owls hooted. The night was getting darker, a cloud passing over the moon. 

Dean

He found him. Digging in his heels, Dean ran to the river side, seeing his angel lying by the riverbed, his trench coat gone, his suit replaced with a blue collared jean shirt and ripped jeans. Dean nearly cried with relief. 

"About fucking time you showed up," he said as Cas raised his head. His eyes were drooped, scratches and bruises marring his beautiful face.

"Dean," Cas’ voice creaked, sounding rougher than usual. He swallowed, his apple bobbing up and down noticably so. "Dean," he started again, voice little more than a whisper, "I-I’m not an angel anymore."

He had feared as such. Bending down, Dean removed his robe, the night air nipping at his bare skin as he draped the garment over his angel. “I was a fool for trusting Metatron, he ripped it out. He cast everyone out and now everyone wants me dead, and I-” Castiel cut himself off, wrapping himself inside the robe. He looked so small and fragile, his once overly impressive display of angel might gone, as if sucked out by a vacuum.

Dean rubbed Castiel’s back in a soothing circle. “It’s going to be okay. We can fix this. One step at a time.”

"How can you be so sure."

Stopping his circles, Dean took back his hand. Castiel’s gaze met his in defeated despair and Dean made a silent resolve to do what he could to help. “Because,” he said, scooting over to sit by Cas, “if there is one thing I’ve learned in all my years, is that when we’re together, we can conquer anything. Demons, angels, fucking leviathans, you name it. We’ve taken them all on and won, every single time. So you know what I say to this Metatron douche bag?” Dean spat at the ground, wiping his mouth. “Bring it. Because he doesn’t have a snow ball of a snowballs chance, Cas.”

From the look he gave him, Dean knew Cas didn’t believe him wholly. He wanted to, but the nagging self-doubt was intense- a feeling Dean knew all too well. Nevertheless, he knew Cas was thankful, even if he didn’t show it yet. Dean would hold himself to his word, because his word was everything. 

And he couldn’t stand to see his angel so broken.

"Come on, let’s get you home." Dean said as he got up, helping Cas up to his feet shortly after. Despite the warm robe embracing him, the fallen angel still shivered violently, so Dean wrapped an arm around Cas’ waist, bringing him in closer to share his body heat. The clouds passed over the stars and moon, more light shining onto the path leading back to the bunker. 

It will be a long road, but they could do this. Together. One step at a time.


End file.
